Bookends
by il-mio-capitano
Summary: Short stories about AU Buffy and Giles set about 5 years after Chosen (No comics happened). Giles is trying to build a new life. **Ninth Story added**
1. Keeping In Touch

**Bookends Series**

**Title: Keeping in Touch**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order **

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Rupert Giles limped across his living room carpet in just his boxer shorts. It was mid afternoon and the sun sparkled through the bay window of his rented college house, giving the pale lemon walls a welcoming peaceful glow. He didn't worry about the neighbours' view because his modesty was assured by the crisp net curtains and all the middle-class morality they protected.

Some eight properties clustered around a small ornamental quad and Giles' house had the best aspect of them all - even if the back butted onto the main road. It was modestly sized: two bedrooms with a single upstairs bathroom and whilst the kitchen was regrettably small, its sacrifice gave him the double spaced living area that he loved. Most of the furniture came with the College lease but Giles had added his own touches: most notably a large floppy leather sofa to watch TV or to listen to his expensive hi-fi system from. The cooler, dining area had a beautiful mahogany table and chairs with such elegantly turned legs it was almost sacrilege to eat off it. It epitomised the old fashioned quality about the furnishings he enjoyed. The bookcases were snug and respectfully arranged in alcoves even if their contents had regrettably brash and brightly coloured spines advertising serious thought and modern academia. His answer phone blinked lazily on top of a walnut writing bureau that was probably an antique when the University acquired it. He kept it open with books and papers and half-marked essays. His apple laptop sat happily charging on a Queen Anne occasional table in the corner, completely unfazed by its regal connections.

A faint murmur of traffic could be heard from the main road but it was usually only the larger lorries or double-decker buses that came too close and rattled the drainpipes that could be said to be a nuisance. He heard his neighbours' music at times but only at night. Hazy afternoons were all his own usually.

Giles stretched his aching body self-consciously in front of the mirror over the fireplace. His weight was still good even if he couldn't run anymore. Mainly he was red and blotchy and a little bruised in places. There were some deep dark scratches on his chest and shoulders. He frowned at the grey hairs that were seriously outnumbering the chestnut ones. The old scars retained the same angry white resentment they'd always had.

He pushed aside his vanity, picked up his drink and climbed the narrow carpeted staircase, stopping first to pick up a stray shirt button and then his glasses a couple of steps later. His framed print of Plymouth Harbour from the 18th century had been whacked off centre but he ignored it in favour of collecting his belt from the banister rail. At the top of the stairs, he pulled shut the door to the spare room that had been knocked open. It was packed with crates of books he wouldn't be reading and a weapons chest he wouldn't be opening. He found and kicked his shirt into the main bedroom where chaos and uncertainty really took a hold. For a so called Master Bedroom there was barely room for a bed and wardrobe and some of his father's books had sprawled their way across the landing and slumped against skirting boards and up onto the window sill with no discernible campaign or sense of order. He'd had them for two years now and still had no stomach to catalogue them. Their main purpose currently was to support the whirlwind of female clothing that was strewn about them and his floor.

The clothes' owner was curled up in the middle of his bed. Her nakedness swathed under a huge duvet, a corner of which was scrunched up under her chin. The eye of his storm: Buffy Summers, Slayer, twenty-seven years old and looking disturbingly younger as she dreamt on her side. His beautiful weakness. Giles put his drink and glasses on the bedside cabinet and crawled back to her.

"Ugh you're cold." Buffy scampered across a little, giving him room. "Why do you always run off afterwards?"

"Probably my age. I put the water heater on though." He lay on his back and looked at the cobwebs on the ceiling. The bedroom caught the light of the afternoon sun more harshly than the living area. Dust rose and danced in judgement on the thermals.

"Mm hot shower. Your act of desertion is totally forgiven." She turned to face him, propped herself on one elbow and ran a lazy finger teasingly over his chest. "Although I could think of further penance if you like." She seemed to like to touch him, though she always avoided the scars.

"You're incorrigible," he said softly.

"I know. Isn't it good? This is good isn't it?" When he didn't respond immediately she climbed upon his stomach and held his wrists playfully. "Say it's good Giles."

He laughed. "How can I complain?"

She leant forward for a kiss but pulled back and wrinkled her nose.

"Really not keen on the whisky breath. Why do you always have to have a drink when I'm here?"

"It helps me to relax."

"You had one before too," she accused.

"Don't count. It's not nice."

Buffy climbed off him and rolled back under the duvet. "Is it just me?" she asked. "Because I have no complaints. You don't have to prove anything to me. I know you can keep up."

Giles reached for his watch on the cabinet and studied the time. "How's Paris?" he asked.

She smiled at some memories. "Busy. Exciting. Dawn loves it. I'm not always there of course. Everybody always wanting something. Wanting me. Slayer In Demand here."

"I'm sure." Giles buckled the watch on his wrist. "Are you seeing anyone?" An afternoon bus striped the window light, rattling the sash mechanism. The road hadn't been built with anything other than horse and cart in mind.

"Only the old gang, but then they are all travelling and doing important work too." She seemed to think she's spoken out of turn. "You're much better off out of it. Faith asked me if retirement suited you. I'll tell her yes."

He looked at her in surprise. "Does she know?"

"This? Oh no. I'm just saying everyone is cool with you wanting to do the academic thing. It's good that you're got an ordinary life. Everyone understands really."

Giles swung round out of the bed. "How nice."

"Hey." She moved quickly to stop him, hugging his back and shoulders. "You don't have to compete OK? Spike and I did a lot of stuff in our day but this is much better."

He pulled away and stood, levering himself via the bedpost. "Please let's not talk about your vampire lovers in my bedroom." The duvet had flapped over leaving Buffy on her knees facing him, she didn't seem to feel awkward about it.

"I'm just saying Spike and I were all Last Tango in Paris, and this is all nice and safe. I feel I can be myself here with you. That that's a good thing."

He gave her a shy smile then turned away to drain his whisky. Buffy plumped his pillow on hers to raise her head and laid back down to get his attention. Giles however went to the wardrobe for a fresh pale blue shirt. He stood with his back to her and buttoned it up.

"And I like coming here," Buffy continued as she stretched her toes apart. "It's very picturesque and quaint and, do you know, I've never seen a single vampire here? I guess you don't need to go out to patrol." She stopped that line of thought hastily. "No. Course not. Sorry."

Giles buttoned the cuffs and delved back in the wardrobe for one of his suits.

Buffy frowned at the implication. "What happened to the jeans? You were slacker guy two hours ago."

He stepped into the legs a little awkwardly then retrieved his belt from the floor and threaded the loops. "I have a tutorial at 3.30."

"You never said."

"It's Thursday." He produced a jaunty yellow and blue tie and raised his shirt collar. "I always see students on a Thursday."

"Oh."

"You're welcome to stay." Taking the banister rail with his right hand he pushed off down the stairs and left her alone.

Buffy re-dressed quickly and found him clearing the draining rack in the kitchen. It was the smallest room in the house and as there was barely room for one person, she lingered in the doorframe.

"I think I'll go and get an earlier train," she said.

Giles continued stacking his pan stand without looking up. "Do you want me to call you a taxi?"

"No. I can walk." She gestured to the small airline bag she'd abandoned earlier by the front door. "I travel pretty light these days."

Something didn't feel right so she reached for his hand and pulled him into the open space of his tidy and organised living room, backing him into the sofa. He moved a little awkwardly but she pulled him close in reassurance. He felt for her hair as she hugged his waist, slipping her hands under his suit to touch the soft cotton of his shirt. Giles dropped a kiss on the top of her head before they broke. She reached up and worked on his tie. "Got to have you looking your best for impressionable young minds," she explained, pushing the knot a little tighter. He dug his hands in his pockets and rumpled his nicely pressed jacket.

Buffy smoothed her hair, retrieved her phone from her bag and started pushing buttons professionally. "I can be in England again in five weeks." Giles flipped open his desk diary and fingered ahead.

"When exactly?" he asked.

"Friday 21st through to Sunday 23rd" Buffy beamed. "Lucky boy gets a whole Saturday. What shall we find to do with ourselves?"

Giles looked at his shoes. "We could go for a drive, or head up the river. Take something for a picnic if the weather is nice."

"Do you punt Dr Giles?"

He looked her in the eye at last. "I'm told I have excellent technique Miss Summers." Buffy giggled and began to tap in the entry. Giles produced a fountain pen to record his end of the arrangement.

"Actually Buffy, I've got a formal dinner on Friday 21st. We could go together. It's a Black tie do, you know, formalwear?" She was engrossed in her own email. "Buffy? Clothes? Dressing up?" Giles added hopefully as she frowned at her screen.

"Sunday 23rd I'm going to have to be away pretty early I'm afraid. And Friday I can only get here after 10pm. That's going to be late. I'll be starving after the airplane food too." She sighed and then looked up brightly. "You can cook me something special. I love your cooking."

Giles nodded his acquiescence. "I have all the skills."

She put away her phone happily and slipped her flight bag over one shoulder. "It's why I come."

She kissed him goodbye and let herself out as had become the habit. Buffy never wanted to be seen to the door and fussed over so he waited and watched through the back window as her jaunty frame set off up the high street towards the train station. The local school run had begun and cars and kids began to stream out onto the pavements, sounds of laughter and playfulness filled the spring day. He undid his top button and slacked the tie. Peace and quiet reigned inside his home once more: the madness had past. He decided against another whisky and sat at his writing bureau to consider the afternoon's work that had been interrupted. The answer machine continued to flash slowly. He pressed [play].

"_Hi Dr Giles, it's Emma here. I'm afraid I can't make our tutorial today at half three…_"

He stopped the message mid sentence. His student had gone on to say something about '_a library mix up_' and could he '_be an incredible angel and reschedule for Tuesday?_' He hit [delete] because he didn't need to hear it again.

The End


	2. Barricades

**Bookends Series**

**Title: Barricades**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Buffy had had every intention of sticking to the date they'd agreed but she wasn't sure how Giles was going to react to her being a day early. She'd tried leaving messages on his answering machine to warn him but he'd not confirmed even the agreed date. There wasn't much else she could do but get there and see how he was. Her life was a rollercoaster of planes and meeting rooms and it followed a route she couldn't always break. She understood his academic life was based around routine and order and that he didn't take well to surprises, but she really hoped she'd be a nice surprise, a welcomed surprise. If not well, there were always hotels near the train station.

She tried his cell phone a couple of times after clearing customs at Heathrow. It bugged her that it was switched off. Sure he wasn't Grand Central station for communications anymore and he often forgot the silly thing needed to be recharged, but still, Buffy worried a little as she made her connecting train to his university town.

It was a warm day in England and she walked the mile to Giles' small house with her denim jacket tied to her travel bag. She passed a group of high-spirited students who seemed to be excited about a rugby match or possibly a cricket thing - something alien that made total sense to them anyway. Eight youngsters crammed in an open top sports car honked at her from some traffic lights. She scowled with enough calculated grace to make them laugh and drive on.

Giles' front door was locked and the doorbell wasn't producing him either. Buffy stepped back into the shared courtyard and looked up at the spare bedroom windows. They were shut but if they were anything like his master bedroom windows, a little force would lift one of them up. The drainpipe alongside looked sturdy enough. She put her bag down and pulled at the ancient iron pipe in inspection. One of the rusty clips immediately popped out in warning.

"I say." A voice called from the house opposite. Buffy tried to hide her breaking and entering intent with a 200 watt smile.

"I say are you looking for Dr Giles?" A young man about her age came out dressed in cargo shorts and tee-shirt with a rather rude message concerning a rival university." I've seen you here before I think? Calling on our evasive Dr G?" He beamed a smile that probably got him quite some way with undergraduates. "I'm Michael."

She nodded but had no intention of going into her own details. Instead she asked curtly, "Is he here do you know?"

"No, he went out some time ago. Was he expecting you? That's terribly rude. He can be a bit like that can't he? My girlfriend thinks he's ex MI6 or something, because she says he's all wounded puppy one minute then snarling pit bull the next. But then she also thinks everyone here is damaged somehow by Class Warfare, so maybe we shouldn't set too much store by that." He considered her. "I don't suppose you know his story do you? He is a bit of a mystery round here. Rather parachuted into the place, don't you know?" She must have been frowning because he added quickly, "I mean he knows his stuff right enough, just a bit of mystery."

"Do you know where he went?"

He sighed in resignation of having to give up the conversation. "His friend came round, so I say try the Water Rat. I've seen them in there a couple of times recently."

The Water Rat public house seemed a deeply unlikely Giles venue. Its position near the river made it a magnet for students and on that hot afternoon, they seemed to be there in their hundreds. A good many were standing and drinking outside, waving happily to passing cars and cyclists. There was no polite way past the crush in the main entrance so Buffy skirted to the back and saw much the same scene of happy drinkers clustered around picnic tables or lying on the grass in groups. Everyone seemed intent on jovially consuming a great deal of alcohol. She managed to squeeze in the main building via the backdoor. The pub was split into a series of bewildering rooms each of which was full to bursting with happy sweaty drinkers revelling in sunshine and some varsity sporting success.

Giles was seated in corner of the third room she tried. He saw her at about the same time she spotted him. He smiled warmly and drank a sizeable amount of his pint. Buffy couldn't see his companion as she drove through the crush towards him.

Giles rose to greet her. "You're a day early," he exclaimed happily though that could just as easily have been due to the beer. She wondered how long he'd been there. He was usually more cautious in his greetings, even in his own home. She was about to explain her lucky break in scheduling when a familiar voice also greeted her.

"Hello Buffy." She froze. Ethan Rayne had a chair next to Giles. "Long time no see," he added brightly.

Her first instinct was to punch Ethan and drag Giles away to safety, but the room was too noisy and crowded. One of the students, in throes of explaining a winning move, jostled her in the back and she lurched forward clumsily. Giles caught her arm to steady her. "You remember Ethan don't you, Buffy?" He was shouting a little to be heard over the noise.

"How could I forget," she hissed. "Although more importantly, how could you have forgotten? What's he doing here?" A roar went up from another section of the pub and her question to Giles was lost the raucous. He pointed to his ear and shook his head, still smiling.

"Can I get you a drink?" he shouted. "Here, you'd better take my seat before the animals around here steal it." There was some good-natured jeering from the drinkers to their side. Buffy reluctantly sent him off for a Lime and Soda, but then settled close to Ethan's left ear.

"When he comes back," she said calmly, "You're going to make up an excuse and leave. And you are never going to contact him again."

"I think not Buffy dearest," Ethan replied a low voice. "I'm not actually the one who is causing him harm."

"He doesn't need you and your twisted games right now. He's out of it. He's a civilian now."

"Believe it or not I do understand that part. I am rather curious as to why though."

"He hasn't told you?" she tried hard to keep the triumph of her voice.

Ethan smiled. "Not yet." He sipped his beer. "You could tell me."

He was insufferable when he held any sort of advantage, and his presence in Giles' history and disturbing new role as his best drinking buddy, gave Ethan a whole handful of trump cards.

"Ah cat got your tongue," he gloated. "I think what Rupert needs right now are his friends around him. Someone who cares for him. People he can talk to."

She was aware she was jutting out her chin as she asserted, "He can talk to me."

He barked a laugh and Buffy felt uncomfortable as to whether Ethan knew the sort of relationship she had with Giles now. That would have required Giles to have told him.

"Sorry but you're not really serious?" Ethan stopped his mocking giggle. "It's pretty obvious he needs help," he said simply.

"I'm helping him," she answered defiantly.

"Yes," he said with slow contemplation. "But maybe he favours my help more than yours."

She ignored the barb. "I agree he needs help, but what he doesn't need is to be getting drunk and starting all that nonsense again. He doesn't need to be raising Cain and god knows what else with you."

"Oh but Rupert likes getting drunk with me, and Cain is a terribly nice chap once you get to know him," he purred.

"Leave him alone, Ethan."

To her surprise he leant forward, the lazy charm and jokes had evaporated and she saw the hardness in his eyes.

"No, you leave him alone. You don't belong here, Buffy. You swing by every couple of weeks to screw up his life. You bring back all the pain and the memories. You're the one that's smothering him so he can't move on. So why don't you be the one to make an excuse to leave when he comes back?"

His passion was unexpected and she almost wanted to consider him an ally, but she was not going to surrender Giles to this man. She found her own anger and used it.

"If you hurt him I will kill you," she threatened.

Ethan sat back, tremendously unimpressed. "I could give you the same warning, dear child."

There was disturbance in the crowd and a parting similar to the red sea brought Giles, carrying Buffy's lime and soda and also rather adeptly, two full pints.

"Seemed a waste not to get them in as I was there," he explained. Ethan picked up his current pint and drained it as Giles did the same. They clinked the empty glasses together in some mysterious ritual.

"To Victory," Ethan toasted, raising his voice so the call was taken up all around them.

Buffy rose with calculated dignity and turned her back to Ethan. She motioned Giles to duck so he could hear her, put a hand on his shoulder and spoke in his ear. "Can I have the keys please?"

"Oh right yes," he breezed and dived to his pocket. Giles handed over his full set without a second thought. "There's some food in the fridge. Make yourself at home. I'll be…, well I'll be…."

"Sure." She squeezed past Giles who plonked back down on the chair as she passed.

She scowled at Ethan again who faked a smile. "Let's not do this again sometime", she muttered. "Giles," And here she fixed him with her best demon slaying look. "I will talk to you later," she added firmly. A couple of students jeered and there was a mocking call of 'got a ball and chain there mate'. Giles sheepishly nodded to her as he arranged the glasses on the table, empties furthest away, but he was making no effort to leave Ethan's company. Buffy knew the round was lost.

As she turned to go, Ethan shouted a mocking "Don't wait up for us, darling." Which produced more partisan laughter from the bystanders.

Buffy departed with great dignity, but raised the prize of Giles' house keys on her middle finger to Ethan as she did so.

_The End_


	3. Spread My Wings

**Bookends Series**

**Title: Spread My Wings**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Rupert Giles took a glass of champagne from the waiter and settled back against the wall to observe his fellow guests. It was his fifth glass but nobody else was counting, the rest of his immediate party having scattered to make small talk or even dance in the palatial ball room. He pulled uneasily at his collar and the black bow tie and wondered what time he would be allowed to get away.

The vast white receptions rooms of the Chancellery chattered and laughed with the sway of academics - like himself - and politicians, most definitely not like himself. His whole faculty had been three-line whipped there, the Master having insisted they make the journey to London to 'let their hair down a little'. He'd felt they were getting 'too cloistered' and when Giles had opened his mouth to make his apologies, the Master, having already caught his eye, added 'need to shake some of you out of your creeping agoraphobia, I say'. To which Giles had politely laughed along with everyone else.

They had opened the French windows at the back of the ballroom, which was promising as Giles began to feel the heat of the enforced sociability keenly. He put his empty glass on a Queen Anne mantelpiece and pushed off from the wall in search of fresh air.

"Giles."

He stopped and stared at the vision in the pale blue, strapless silk who had addressed him. He had not expected to meet Buffy at a reception such as this. He hadn't known she was even in the country.

"Buffy." He smiled at her warm shout, put his hands in his pockets and studied his slightly scuffed shoes. She seemed excited and happy to be there. This was her natural element of course: this being with people. She was the most beautiful woman in the room and she deserved a chance to dazzle and radiate.

She took his arm. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said and his head started to swim with the heat and the alcohol. "This is Ryan. Captain Ryan Appleby." Of course she was not alone. Giles had already seen the immaculately polished shoes and coloured banding of a British Army dress uniform. "Ryan, this is Dr Rupert Giles."

"How do you do, sir." Appleby was polite and serious and not some 'eager to please' puppy. He eyed Giles warily which was a crumb of comfort. Nobody had eyed him warily for a long time.

"Captain," Giles acknowledged with equal caution. Buffy's date was dark haired, handsome, taller than he was, and a good twenty years younger, and Giles felt, if he tried hard enough, he could probably find a whole lot more about the boy he could dislike.

"So how do you two know each other?" asked Appleby and Giles wanted to laugh. Buffy opted for the 'old friends' explanation and switched the focus to how she and Ryan worked together from time to time. It became clear that Appleby knew she was the Slayer and Buffy wasn't especially keeping secrets from him. Well, maybe one. Maybe she hadn't mentioned how she trotted to her 'old friend's' bed when she could squeeze him in between her busy workload. Were they actually old friends? Had they ever been friends in the first place? That was a sobering question and Giles felt a strong need for another drink.

Appleby fired a piercing question at him. "So you're a vampire hunter too?"

"No," said Buffy very quickly. "Giles is retired, aren't you, Giles."

The good captain spoke with incredulity, "Oh but surely once a demon -"

"Drop it, Ryan." Buffy said sharply. Giles' attention drifted as the young couple exchanged some whispers. He admired the eight elegant chandeliers which, whilst converted to electric light, still shouted Edwardian decadence. The ceiling also had some fine sculpting work that looked well maintained. It was remarkably warm for such a tall room.

Buffy's voice interrupted his architectural survey. "Dance with me?" He heard her say.

"What?"

He looked around in surprise. The heated whispers had ended and Buffy had dispatched her soldier off on some sort of mission leaving Giles and her alone.

"I said 'will you dance with me?'" And before he'd really processed the idea, she had a hold of his hand and led him to the ballroom where the twenty-five piece orchestra was playing something slow. She directed him confidently through the other couples to the centre of the floor and turned with a radiant smile.

"Be with me," she said softly.

He could not resist. He stood and swayed and held her gently, surrendering to the music and the sensual perfume of her hair. Their feet moved together instinctively. Buffy's hands were on his back and he felt his sweaty shirt stick to his ribs. The music thundered in his ears, blotting out all thoughts but the pleasure and the pain that she represented. She snuggled into his chest, depositing a little makeup on his dress shirt in the process, but he didn't mind. It was just the two of them in the world and he felt the bliss and contentment that that revelation always brought him. It would last as long as the music did and he found his hand had moved to her bare shoulder and was gently rubbing her collarbone. She bunched his jacket in a fist to get closer as the orchestra turned their last page and gathered their last note.

He led her off the dance floor, deliberately choosing the opposite direction from where her soldier friend stood waiting.

"It's nice to see you getting out," Buffy breathed. She hadn't let go of his hand. "I'd have asked you to be my escort tonight if I knew you did this sort of thing."

Giles deftly took another glass of champagne from a waiter for his thirst. "You fit me in when you can," he replied and drank.

"Are you staying in town tonight?" she asked and he could see where her thoughts were heading. It was where her thoughts always headed and Giles saw he had only one slim opportunity before the madness descended again.

"No, I came here with my department. We all travelled here by minibus. In fact I probably need to be going now. It's a long drive home."

That got a frown and he managed to extradite his hand with the pretence of needing to swap the champagne over. The success gave him a little courage. "So while it's been lovely Buffy, I do think this is over now."

"What?"

"We've had our time."

"Wait."

"No. I think you should find your young man and enjoy the rest of your evening. Enjoy the rest of everything, in fact." His voice had got a little higher but he brushed it off as down to the heady atmosphere. She knew what he meant; ironically they had that level of understanding with each other even if they didn't communicate in other areas too well.

"Giles, don't..."

"I'm fine Buffy. I don't need your pity visits. We have different lives now so let's respect that."

Buffy suddenly looked like a delicate orchid he'd just trodden on. She'd always been a confident young woman and the transformation was alarming. With abject timing, Captain Appleby approached them. Buffy turned her head from him to compose herself.

"I think it's time for my dance now," the young officer said. He was smiling but it covered a slight unease as to whether he was rescuing her or disturbing her from something important. Buffy pre-empted any discussion by taking off like a bullet towards the dance floor. Appleby gave Giles a hard stare but it wasn't a look of triumph; he was as puzzled as Giles was as to what was going on. Giles shrugged to convey his sense of bewilderment at the phenomenon that was women in general and Buffy in particular. Appleby eventually followed his girl and Giles let out the breath he'd been holding. It was for the best.

He watched them dance for a full three minutes before he lost sight of her behind Appleby's solid, reliable frame. Giles slipped awkwardly back to the main reception room and then followed a waiter through some self-effacing swing doors. The world changed dramatically to a series of grubby corridors till he came out in the kitchens. A young woman frowned at him but in general the staff were far too busy rushing to supply trays of food and drinks to challenge his presence. There was much noise and lively chatter. Giles walked around the edges feeling like a ghost until he pushed open a fire door and made his way outside. A man in white half-length smock and harlequin trousers was sitting on the trash cans enjoying a smoke.

Giles dipped further into the silence of the quiet car park and found his vehicle. The minibus had a simple door mechanism and he slipped the catch easily and slid open the large door at the side. He knew logically he'd have to wait another couple of hours for his colleagues but it still felt like act of liberation worthy of legend and song. He sat on the vehicle's floor with his feet on the ground and wondered at what he'd just done.


	4. All At Sea

Title:** All At Sea**

**Bookends Series**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Buffy padded back from the tiny kitchen and set down her (marshmallow-less) cocoa on a delicately spindled table next to Giles' generous leather sofa. She wrapped herself in the fleecy blanket with her feet across the middle seat, albeit tucked to one side, retrieved her mug and flicked the TV remote to resume her French film. She had seen it before in Paris but the late night screening in England was giving her subtitles, and hence the opportunity to pick up on some of the nuances she'd missed. The romance was still pretty lame but the plot held up.

It was late but she wasn't worried about being on her own. If anything she felt a little silly waiting up for Giles, he was a grown man after all, even if he had been quite boyishly embarrassed when he'd explained he'd double booked himself for her visit. She'd teased him about whether he needed the place to himself and he'd stammered that the situation wasn't 'like that'. She looked at his clock again and couldn't help but smile at the idea that maybe it was 'like that', and maybe Giles was finally on the mend. She'd been worried. Well, they'd all been worried.

It had been two months since the gang had picked this academic town and Giles had moved in without argument. The ancient wards afforded Buffy a welcome break from the slaying too. It was pleasant to have everything so normal in the outside world. Giles wasn't really talking much but it was good to know that when she was away, he was safe from that kind of harm. He needed stability in his life right now. He'd earned the right to some sort of normalcy, even if she wasn't sure how long he needed it for. The doctors hadn't really wanted to commit themselves.

The only slight concern she had as she sipped her drink and drifted her attention away from the TV was that the weather outside had turned really atrocious in the past hour. The wind was howling at the upstairs sash windows despite the paper wedges Giles used to plug them, and the rain was nosily trying to breach the front door. She hoped he wasn't getting too wet.

The key turned in the lock and she grinned at the teasing she could unleash. Alarmingly, any hope that Giles had managed to stay dry was misplaced. He looked like he'd have swum along the river that meandered nearby. Buffy turned on the sofa to face him, her eyes wide. "Couldn't you get a taxi back?" she asked.

Giles stood on the mat after locking his front door and thought about her question for just a little bit longer than should have been necessary.

"Walked," he declared finally.

He was standing very still, looking at the carpet and dripping disturbingly large pools of water. His hair was flattened and thin. His glasses bore so many drops of water he couldn't possibly see through them.

"Giles?" Buffy gripped her mug. "Do you mean you walked her home?"

"No." His answer was clear but his thoughts were miles away. Buffy rose and circled towards him carefully. He looked shipwrecked.

"You should get out of those wet things," she said softly to which he nodded. "Do you want me to help?" He shook his head. "Did you two have a good dinner?"

He looked lost to her again. "I remember soup."

The shower had been running for nearly twenty minutes and Buffy couldn't stand to listen to the water heater in the kitchen anymore. She took the stairs quickly and knocked on the bathroom door. Steam was pouring out under the doorway and racing to the windows and his books. She hated imposing herself but when he didn't answer to his name she opened the door and found Giles, still dressed and sitting on the floor, as the shower vented waves of steam to obscure her view

She killed the water, opened a window, grabbed a towel to put on the floor beside him and sat very cautiously. He was very wet. He looked like he was melting into the floor. She risked a shoulder to his and when he didn't object she leant back. It was if there had been a great sea storm and Giles was a small defenceless boat that had been pulled from his moorings.

"I had to leave. You understand?" Giles muttered. Buffy made no reply but trusted a little more weight against him.

"Mary, well, she was in tremendous danger."

Buffy's eyes widened as her mind raced. Damn. They had been so careful. Willow said she had researched the town thoroughly; Faith had even taken a sweep and declared it clean. How could something dangerous have gotten through? Buffy needed to kill it and then they needed to find another demon-free zone for him. He couldn't afford setbacks. Her thoughts were interrupted by Giles dreamily declaring, "I had to leave her before I got her killed."

"Oh." Buffy let her own anxiety drift and gently probed, "So you left her in the restaurant and then …walked. How long ago was this?"

"There was soup," he recalled.

"I see. So you bailed during the soup course? Nuts. Will she be upset?"

He nodded.

"Angry?"

He nodded again. "I imagine so."

"Oh Giles, I'm sorry. I can call her in the morning and try to explain, or you can."

He pushed a foot against the pedestal of the sink and stretched. Water ran off his pants to the tiled floor. "Of course," he mused. "I must have stuck her with the bill too."

It had been hard work coaxing him out of the wet clothes, but after his shower he'd picked out pyjamas for himself and swallowed the two tablets without the water she offered. Buffy cleaned the debris from the bathroom and hung out his clothes to take to a laundrette the next morning. She heard him moving around on the stairs and the door to the spare bedroom open. The crates in there had lain untouched since they'd arrived. She thought of the first time she'd stayed over and they'd quibbled over who should take the couch. She had suggested clearing some space in the spare room how she'd lost his eyes to the seas. She knew better now than to ask him when he was going to go through his father's belongings. She heard the door click again and then the creak of his bed springs in the master bedroom.

Buffy finished her salvage operation and checked around the windows and front door to see they were secure. She switched the lights off and took the narrow staircase back upstairs. Giles had cocooned himself in the centre of the bed with the duvet tightly drawn around him. She slipped into her sweat pants and stole one of his tee-shirts to wear, and then she lay to one side to his back, not touching him and not pulling for the duvet.

"I called Dr Clarke," she said matter-of-factly. "He can see you tomorrow."

"I'm fine. A bit of rain won't hurt anyone."

"And Mary seems to have left a bunch of messages on your answering machine." He grunted a response. "She sounds concerned rather than angry," Buffy persisted. "She sounds nice."

"She is nice."

Buffy slept fitfully, her senses tuned in to any movement from Giles. He was warm and dry now but not safe. She suspected he was trying to stay awake and the fact that he hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't acknowledged, or even moved away from her, rather confirmed her theory.

The street outside was deathly quiet. The wind had finally dropped and the squalls of rain were subsiding. The buses and trucks wouldn't start to rattle his windows for another hour; it amused her that she was so tuned to the transport network outside his house. It was still dark and she yawned.

"She was in terrible danger." Giles offered unexpectedly. "Mary was in danger," he added by way of explanation. Buffy said nothing but reached to stroke the hairs on the back of his neck lightly. He was still adrift but looking to find a way back to the shore. "She was going to die."

"It was just a date, Giles. It was just too soon."

"They all die on me."

"Hush"

"Couldn't do that to her. She doesn't know how I can get them killed." He started to get agitated and Buffy touched her hand on his arm.

"It's not really your fault though," she soothed.

He bunched his arms away from her. "They always die on me just the same. Everyone I care about. It's only a matter of time."

"It's alright Giles. It was just a bit too soon to be dating again. I shouldn't have encouraged you."

"They all die on me," he stated again. As if she didn't know. As if she hadn't been there.

"Try to get some more sleep. We'll see the doctor in the morning. You're doing really well."

"You died on me too." His tone was so accusatory she didn't know how to answer at first. She made to hug him but he twisted round in the bed to face her and caught her arm. His eyes were bright with fear. He wanted to come back to the harbour but he didn't trust the beacons.

"You died on me too. Are you a ghost Buffy? Are you really here?"

"Of course I am," she whispered.

"I can't believe that. Are you real? Or maybe I'm the ghost that haunts you?"

"I'm here, Giles. Feel me."

"Don't leave me, Buffy."

"I won't."

And everything felt so right as they fell into their sorrow. A touch, a caress, urgency and reassurance in balance. She had no thoughts but to save this man that had suffered so much. As the world began to rise and assess its own storm damage so Buffy and Giles made love without shame or remorse. It was an instinctual comfort they had stumbled upon. A need to be lost in sensations other than regret or and guilt, and it was passion and it was sublime. Reckless and breathless; no boundaries or awkwardness, only movement and equality and in the face of the half light of daybreak there came understanding and tranquillity and Giles came back from the rocks at last and into calmer waters.


	5. Relative Pin

Title:** Relative Pin**

**Bookends Series**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

The house Rupert Giles grew up in was old and rather sprawling in design. It was a two mile walk from the nearest town and nestled between clean pasture land to the south and west and mediaeval woods to the north. It was isolated but Giles had always felt safe in its isolation. Cities were so full of noise that it was hard to differentiate the malign, he'd always felt that the countryside was more honest in that regard. His parents and housekeeper certainly had no intention of moving anywhere else after nearly sixty years of marriage and in the latter's case fifty years of employment, although the practicalities of maintaining the wood fires and the eccentricity of the electricity generator would someday outflank their stubbornness Giles supposed.

The party guests had arrived. The sudden downpour that had saturated the nearby arable land and threatened to turn Giles' parents' driveway into a river was common enough to his family and friends familiar with the area. And it wasn't as if it didn't always rain on his birthday; he'd grown accustomed to that, and was far from eight years old and jealous of friends with summer celebrations of their passing years. In point of fact, he rather welcomed the rain each year as part of his own private tradition and missed it keenly during his years in California. And now he was in his father's study, surrounded by leather bound books whose spines had overawed him as a child, about to celebrate another year as if he'd never moved out.

The party, from what he could hear of the music player in the main reception room, had already begun. Giles sat awkwardly in his chair straining to hear sounds of his guests. The music was mixture CD made by Olivia and he rather wished she hadn't chosen tracks quite so loud. His mother was indulging her of course. His mother indulged any girl he took home even if he was now on his fifty-fourth birthday and the girls could hardly be said to be girls anymore. His relationship with Olivia had improved greatly since his return to England. Away from the Hellmouth, she'd felt safer with him and been more tolerant of his Watcher's duties. Life should have been perfect.

"Focus on the game, Rupert." His father's voice reminded him. "You do have quite a lot riding on the outcome."

Giles eyed the old man before him and the chess board on the table between them.

"Knight to e2," Giles said glumly. His head hurt where he had been struck but at least the blood had stopped running into his eye. It must have gone eight o'clock already, why couldn't he hear more noise from the party? Some of his guests had arrived - he'd seen them before. Why hadn't someone come to the study and asked after him by now? Not his mother, he thought with tightness in his throat, he didn't want his mother to find them. He needed Buffy, he needed Buffy to come and see what was wrong.

The other man swooped forward and moved the white knight for him.

"You always did have romantic notions of leading with your knight," he said.

"You used to rely on pawns too heavily," Giles responded and stopped himself abruptly. He was not going to rehash old arguments and rivalries with this abomination.

Before the rain, the old man had taken the dogs out for a walk as dusk settled. The dogs had plenty of land for exercise really, but his father liked the routine and his doctor said it would be good for his heart. He had been a long time but Giles had been distracted as his guests had started to arrive and presents began to accumulate in the hallway. Friends joked about the rain as they shook overcoats and umbrellas and huddled off to find food and drink.

"Pawns can be promoted," his father reminded him with irony. He looked like the man that had taken the dogs out, only he had come back without them, and with strength and vigour where there had been fragility and diminished faculties. And Giles had opened the back door and had only seen the elderly man that was prone to lapses of confusion. And Giles had taken pity that he had got so drenched in the rain and lost the dogs to boot somewhere. And Giles had said:

_'For goodness sake, Dad. Come inside and get out of those wet things.'_

Careless words in the home of Watchers who should know better and Giles had compounded his mistake by turning his back on him as he entered the house.

The chair he was tied to was old and the left arm had a split near the joint. His wrists had been cuffed separately to each arm and Giles wondered if he could muster enough power to break the weakness on the left side. His legs would still be pinned but he'd perhaps gain an advantage. It was suicide but it might give him a weapon if he didn't find any other alternative. The wood stack by the fire might as well as been in another room for all the distance it was to him. He couldn't expect to make that without detection and the logs were probably too large. Funny to think that he and his father had cut them only two days previously. Technically he had chopped everything with the chainsaw and his father had sat and talked rambling tales with no discernible beginnings or endings of slayers of days of yore. Giles remembered the love in his mother's eyes when she brought 'the workers' two steaming mugs of coffee. She worried about his dad and his continuing frailty. If Giles felt taken advantage of in finding himself tasked with all the hard labour, the gratitude in his mother's eyes more than made up for it.

The vampire with his father's face moved the black bishop intimidatingly across the board.

"You've got a lot riding on this, son," it said.

"You are not my father. You are the thing that killed my father."

The vampire moved swiftly, its bony hand gripped Giles throat with superhuman strength. Giles felt the pressure on his windpipe as the fingers dug in, his air supply cut. He pulled at the handcuffs desperately, pulled at the weakened chair arm but it held fast. His wrists cut and smarted with blood. The old man suddenly relaxed his grip, and smiled with fiery yellow eyes.

"And I'm the thing that's going to kill you, boy"

Giles gasped for air, fighting an impulse to retch. The vampire perched on the table top and looked amused. "Well? What exactly did you think was going to happen next?"

"The game" Giles struggled hoarsely. "Why the game?"

"I thought you were bright. I thought you'd have guessed by now. Win, Rupert and I will only kill you. Lose, and I will turn you as well."

The music had ended somewhere in the distance and all Giles could hear was his heart beating. It was coldly quiet in the house.

"Buffy will kill you," he promised.

"Your Buffy isn't here. She couldn't even be bothered to show for your birthday party, Rupert. Slayers, they are all heartless little sluts really. Once they get their sex drive going it's very hard to keep them focused on the job in hand. That's why the Council has always worked to keep them young."

"Liar."

The older man looked amused. "They get too old and they become driven by their monstrous appetites. They go through men like a knife through butter. Has she run through you yet? Taken her pleasures?"

Giles battled disgust. It was not his father talking he repeated to himself. "I don't think of Buffy in that way and she isn't like that," he affirmed.

"At your age, she'd probably kill you. Besides your Buffy has a craving for vampires. I must say, that's an intriguing idea. Maybe she'd like you better that way."

Giles had been taunted by vampires before but this one was too close to home.

"Buffy. Buffy!" Giles shouted as best he could with his rasping throat to the silence. No-one came running. The hairs on Giles' arms rose and the silence engulfed him.

"The party?" he breathed in question.

"The Party's over. I mingled as a gracious host should while you were unconscious."

The implications of his comment were horrific.

"Buffy!" Giles shouted again. And then as revulsion gripped him he shouted more weakly, "Mum?"

The vampire smiled. "Your mother has gone on ahead of you. She didn't know anything about it. I felt I owed her that. Generally I was quick. Like an old fox in the hen house." He smiled. "I permitted myself a taste of the lovely Olivia though. You'll have to forgive an old man's fancy there."

Giles wanted his body to shut down. He wanted the nausea to take him and be at peace. There was no reason for this vampire to lie.

The phone rang and startled him back to alertness. The man Giles knew as once his dad, pushed a gag into his mouth, and jumped gleefully across the room to answer it.

"Buffy, my dear, we were just wondering where you'd got to."

Giles tried to shout and work the gag. His father smiled indulgently at his efforts.

Giles blinked back tears and risked a look at the left chair arm. The split in the wood was deeper now. Giles shifted to pull down surreptitiously. The metal handcuff felt like it was cutting his wrist through to the bone but he pulled on through gritted teeth. The wood creaked and he groaned to mask the noise. The vampire was too busy to notice.

"Rupert? I'm afraid I don't see him… I think he went upstairs with Olivia somewhere." There was a pause and then the thing giggled. "You have a one track one mind, my dear really." He gave Giles a lascivious wink. "Oh that is good news… but another forty minutes you think? I'm sure Rupert understands something more important came up. ….We'll be sure to look out for you. Yes, drive safely. Bye my dear."

He hung up. "Gives us plenty of time to finish our game," he said brightly.

Forty minutes. Giles looked at the chessboard somewhat desperately. He'd been confused and defensive when the game had been thrust at him. He hadn't understood the stakes properly. He'd expected to die when the game ended, but he thought he was buying time for everyone else. He'd blocked and sacrificed openings to attack in order to keep the game going. He'd thought he was playing for time, playing for Buffy to come and find him. Playing to keep everyone else alive. But the game board as he looked at it, could not last another forty minutes. He was pinned to a hopeless position.

His priority was not to be turned. Forty minutes… well Buffy would kill the vampire, of that he had no doubt. Her doing so would be preferable, he thought. He didn't want to fight his father. He didn't want to think about having to put a stake through the frail heart of that old man. He just didn't want to have to make Buffy kill himself as well. He must not be turned. He had one move, the weakness of the chair, the surprise in the counter attack. He might provoke the vampire to kill him and miss his chance to turn him. Or should he try to play on and hope Buffy came sooner? Bitter choices: wait for Buffy or try to stake his father and hope at least one of them died. At that point, Giles wasn't sure he cared which.

"Seems to me, you are running out of options." The vampire eyed the chess board with satisfaction. "Make the wrong move now and it will be checkmate in just three moves. You've given up too many pieces and your Queen is useless to you." The vampire turned his back to walk towards to his seat. "I'd say your next move is critical, Rupert."


	6. Telling

Title:** Telling**

**Bookends Series**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Having searched the perimeter of the ball room, Buffy's walk slowed to acknowledge both the futileness of the action and the pain that her elegant dancing shoes were causing her. Seeing Giles at the London reception had thrown her. He'd looked good in a tux and she had allowed herself the luxury of thinking it was a sign of his improving behaviour and had dragged him on the dance floor in front of people. She shouldn't have ignored the drink on his breath and the sweat in his shirt, Giles was not fixed enough to acknowledge they had any sort of relationship and it had been too much for him. He'd said some nasty things and bailed - god knows where - and she wasn't going to be able to find him now. He'd been gone twenty minutes which was plenty of time to have driven far away. A trip to the country was on the cards in the morning. He'd have to open the door if she threatened to kick it in. His secluded little academic world would frown and tut and damn well notice her then, she thought bitterly. It was a thought that brought a smile to her lips at least. She wished she and Giles could just talk sometimes.

She slipped through an unlocked door and walked down an empty, partially lit corridor. She was still in the grander apartments of the building, but areas that weren't used formally. The carpets had a faded charm but it was clear their upkeep was for general housekeeping and not to sweep high ranking visitors about the building. Buffy walked on and tried more doors, eventually she passed into an open area with a grand white staircase that was blocked at the top by lumber and a baby piano. She sat on the third tier and took her shoes off. They were the most impractical items of footwear she'd owned in a long time. They pinched, they squeezed, and they were clearly wrong for her but they looked wicked cool with her dress.

She was still rubbing her feet when Captain Ryan Appleby found her. He had better stalking skills than she'd supposed -all that Sandhurst Officer, Gentleman ,and Demon Hunting training no doubt.

"I was going to ask if everything is alright, but that seems a rather fatuous question in the circumstances." He presented her with a salad bowl filled precariously with about 10 pints of ice cream. It was like Everest only with chocolate sauce and raisins. Buffy couldn't help but blink at him.

"My sister swears by this stuff when she's upset," he offered by way of explanation.

"I'm not upset, I'm angry." Buffy huffed.

Appleby pulled a face. "I've seen you angry," he said patiently. "The Fire Demons in Ashby-de-la-Zouch saw you angry, even if it was the last things they saw," he added rather wryly. "And this ain't even close."

"Well I'm working myself up to angry. Give me a couple of minutes," she grumbled and then eyed the scale of the comfort offering. "No-one could ever be _that_ upset."

"Ah, you being the Slayer, I may have over-proportioned a bit." He smiled warmly and proffered her a spoon. Buffy nodded and took the bowl and spoon. She stretched out and propped herself up on an elbow. Ryan sat on the stairs next to her as she played with her food.

"You're a good brother."

"Absolutely. Usually at this point I offer to do the testosterone thing and give the chap a damn good thrashing."

"Has she ever taken you up on it?"

"Fortunately not. Would it help now?"

"Not really. Giles is a bit emotionally unstable. He's been through …well I told you what happened. He just blindsided me that's all. He's trying to run away from me again." Dumping her after a dance had been Angel's thing. She hadn't expected Giles to be so callous.

Ryan nodded. "Yes, losing his family must have been…well I can't really imagine. Bloody awful however you slice it. It sounds like he's got classic PTSD to me. You should keep him out of combat scenarios and get good counselling. I have some telephone numbers if you like."

"Duh, you think?" she snapped, conscious that she was incubating her anger and maybe test firing it at the wrong person. "Sorry. He shouldn't have been a combatant anyway. Not like that." She took a deep breath. "Afterwards, when he declared he wanted nothing more to do with the Slaying Game, he was pretty angry about everything and wanted to break contact with all of us. We swung him a safe academic job without telling him and lined up some support. I've been dropping by on him a lot too," she added casually, not really wanting to go into details. Giles was big on 'protecting their relationship', convinced that anyone finding out would doom Buffy to certain death. He'd stood her up on three separate occasions until she got the message that whilst he talked of wanting to get out the house, it was pointless agreeing to any plans to do so. These were some of the things she couldn't tell Ryan.

"You thought it wise to check up on him?"

Buffy nodded and tackled the North Face of her desert as a distraction. The sauce had started to run and threatened to spill over the side of the bowl. It had certainly started with her checking up him. Maybe she still was, despite the intimacy they had fallen into. The situation was confusing to her and the toppling ice-cream was a welcome engineering challenge.

"That's sensible. I'm guessing he's pretty familiar with bad magicks and some shady characters. And now he's given you the brush off there's a definite risk he could do something apocalyptically stupid." Ryan's military mind had shifted through its gears. "Some of my telephone numbers come with residential facilities," he added thoughtfully.

"That sounds tremendously sinister even when you use your boyish charm."

"You said yourself he's unstable and therefore he could be a risk."

"He's not that sort of risk. He's Giles."

"Then why have you been checking up on him?"

"Because he shouldn't be on his own with this."

"Even if it what he wants?"

"Especially if it's what he wants. I have some experience in these matters. He's broken and I'm not letting him fall apart any further," she declared.

"Buffy, I don't want to see anyone get hurt, especially not you. I'm just suggesting that sticking to this chap like glue might not be the best thing for either of you. Have you considered that maybe you are too close? You do represent the Slaying Game after all. He looked a pretty mean drunk to me. Maybe he needs more professional counselling than you can offer? A safer environment with better drugs and, I don't know, hypnosis or talking therapies or…"

"Oh he can't talk about it." She almost laughed at the bitterness, causing Ryan to look puzzled at her. She was going to have to explain that part. "Because he doesn't remember any of it."

"Good god."

Buffy shifted so as not to look at him. "In the hospital…he looked so happy to see me….out of surgery and his eyes were so bright and alive. And I thought, 'wow, this is Giles, my rock. He's so strong and resilient even after everything he's been through, and he's smiling at me, at me'. And then he asked if I could call his girlfriend to get her to drive his parents over," her voice threatened to choke her, "because they'd be worried about him."

She stabbed bitterly at the ice cream.

"And I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything. What we'd found…who we'd found… and believe me that was worse than the three weeks worth of funerals we went to. Well, maybe when we buried an empty coffin next to his mother's… that was pretty bad, but having to tell him? I'm not sure he believed me. I'm not quite sure he's forgiven me." That was the moment she lost Giles. "We haven't communicated very well since then." She pondered that maybe their only real moments of pure communication came through physical intimacy. That it was the only way she could reach him and when he opened up his vulnerability to her, because then they didn't need to talk, then they understood each other perfectly. But afterwards neither of them could quite ask for more or let go and the cycle of small talk and silence spun again.

"I understand some of what he's going through," she continued softly. "Some years ago, I had a similar sort of problem. I couldn't relate to people, I detached, I didn't care about my work, and I entered into an inappropriate relationship that kept a secret from my friends. Not that that last one is relevant," she flushed. "But I have experience in this. I have a responsibility to Giles. He's my problem and I say he's not a risk."

Ryan raised a hand in deference. "Your judgement. Your call. I saw what you did to those Fire Demons in Leicestershire, I trust you completely. And it's only natural that if this chap stuck by you in your lean times, you want to be there for him."

"Yeah." Buffy found she had suddenly lost her appetite for ice-cream. She began to squeeze her feet back in her shoes.

"Are we past the comfort food stage now? Do you want to dance some more?"

"No, I think I'd like some fresh air."

"Sure, I understand." He rose and gallantly helped her to her feet. "Would you like to take a turn in the gardens and see if we can find something for you to stake?"

"Wow. Ice-cream and ass-kicking. You really are the perfect brother."

Ryan smiled. "I can't really promise we'll find you anything. Some of my men are already patrolling the area for lurking undesirables. It's probably really quiet out there."

"Something will turn up. Let's try the parking lot. I bet there are lots of undesirables hiding out there. There will be lurkage, I just know it," she added happily. She could deal with Giles tomorrow.


	7. Partial Derailment

Title:** Partial Derailment**

**Bookends Series**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

The sleepy rural train station hadn't seen such activity in a long time. The trains from London usually whistled through contemptuously on their way to the more honeypot towns that surrounded the great academic city, but now the unmanned station like every dog, was having its day.

Bemused passengers dribbled out in twos and threes, carrying and wheeling their luggage awkwardly and looking bewildered to find themselves so obviously not where they expected to be. Tourists and day trippers mingled with backpacking students in their confusion at having been thrown off their train so presumptuously. There was much indignant and repetitive chatter. A coach across the road from Giles' prime position in the car park, tooted its horn impatiently and gradually the travellers got the message and snaked their way over. Every small group stopped to ask the driver if she was their replacement to the rail service – to which she nodded curtly and gestured to them to load their luggage in the side trucks, not the main carriage of her spotlessly clean vehicle.

Giles climbed out the sports car and stood so Buffy could spot him. It was a warm sunny day and he'd left the top down. The sunlight caught her golden hair as she followed the others and he smiled shyly. She in turn treated him to a beaming grin and detached herself from the others.

"I wasn't sure you were coming to pick me up."

They never hugged in public. Giles moved to open the boot for her small carry-on bag. "The news has been full of the landslip under the rail tracks and the partial derailment this morning. That coach is taking everyone to the next station down the line, but I did get your message, so here I am."

"And here you are indeed, and OH MY GOD, this is _the_ most sexiest car I've ever seen you with." Buffy eyed the powder blue 1967 Lotus Elan with undisguised pleasure.

Giles shut the boot. "It's Ethan's. I just borrowed it to pick you up."

"Ethan's?" Buffy's enthusiasm noticeably soured. "Have you checked the brake cables?"

"Come on. If we don't get out of here before that bus, we'll be driving behind it for the next twenty miles."

They vacated the one good parking spot to a noticeable scowl from the coach driver and Giles began to lazily tickle the car around the narrow country lanes. Buffy struggled with her hair and the wind over the top of the windscreen. Giles gestured to the glove box where she found an old baseball cap. It was a tight fit and made her ears stick out. Giles thought it made her look disturbingly young and kept his eyes on the road.

"We don't have to go straight to your place, do we? I mean, couldn't we stop at a pub and have lunch or something? It's just such a beautiful day to be outside."

"I have to get back. I'm expecting a phone call."

"Oh, OK."

A brace of lapwings took flight from a hedgerow as they drove past a little too close on the near side.

"Giles, I got a really odd email from our finance department the other day. They asked about Dr Clarke's bills. Apparently he's stopped sending them." Giles slowed the car to negotiate a blind corner. "Do you know why he might have done that?" Buffy persisted.

"Some sort of admin hiccup?" he offered. They reached a T-junction and Giles put all concentration into his observations, leaning forward to look past Buffy's obstruction.

"For real?"

He pulled out onto a wider straighter road and worked up through the gearbox.

"I don't know. I don't work there."

"Maybe you could ask them at your next appointment?"

Giles grunted and picked up more speed. The wind draft made it hard to hear for the rest of the journey.

He waved to the attendant and parked expertly in the small secure parking area two streets from the courtyard house he rented. Buffy fought her way out of the seatbelt and darted to retrieve her bag. When Giles slammed the boot a little too fiercely Buffy giggled.

"Wow, I expected the back seats to explode with glitter and the doors to fall off."

Giles worked the canvas hood over and secured it and muttered, "It's a perfectly safe car. It used to belong to Ethan's father." He locked both doors manually and they walked to his house in silence, Buffy carrying her bag over her shoulder and Giles with his fingers tucked into his jeans pockets. They maintained their customary distance as they walked, giving no clue as to the nature of their relationship.

It was only when they were inside, and Giles had carefully locked the front door, did their arms snake around each other greedily in the hallway.

"Hello, Giles," Buffy said playfully.

"Good morning, Buffy," he replied and then spread his fingers across the base of her back and nuzzled her neck. Buffy caressed his shirt collar and played a thumb and finger over the top button. "Are you tired after your long journey?" he asked.

"Yes and no," she teased. She pulled him closer as he gently worked the base of her tee-shirt to feel more of her back with his hand. "Tell me," she giggled involuntarily and then regained her focus. "Exactly when is your next appointment with Dr Clarke?"

Giles kissed her ear and hid in her hair. "Oh I don't know; end of the month or something. Do we have to talk about this now?" he asked soothingly.

"Yes, we do." She tugged his shirt and pulled his head back to look at her. "It's important we figure out what's happened to his invoices."

Giles took a very deep breath, broke off the embrace and walked into his living area. He'd piled up various worn clothes on his desk chair and scooped up the newspapers and magazines haphazardly on the coffee table. His desk could barely be seen under the choppy seas of essays and exams papers waiting for his attention. With his back to Buffy, he poured a small whisky into a glass. His hand shook slightly but she couldn't see.

"With respect it's really not important. In fact it's pretty bloody pointless, if you must know. Nothing ever happens. I still don't remember anything and frankly I don't want to. It's a complete waste of time and the Council's money and Ethan thinks so too. He thinks…" he broke off hesitantly having said too much. "You wouldn't understand."

Buffy walked around to face him and asked carefully, "Ethan thinks what exactly?"

Giles focused on her shoes as he spoke. "Only that maybe with magick we could find a way to-"

Buffy interrupted him. "Oh because that worked out so well for Willow and Tara!"

"I said you wouldn't understand," Giles grumbled and began to pace the living room with his drink.

"Giles, are you and Ethan? Are you doing spells?" she asked timidly.

She was stifling, trying to take control. Giles gripped his glass. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, you and he…" It was her turn to break off uncertainly. "He's not making you do things you don't want to is he?" she said softly. "He's not hurting you in some way?"

"No he's not. He's my friend; he's looking out for me. He lent me his car so I could pick _you_ up this morning."

"Giles, I…" She approached in conciliation but Giles suddenly needed his distance back.

"You're not my mother, so drop it." He clumsily tried to put his drink on the desk but misjudged the mound of overflowing exam scripts. The glass toppled and crashed to the floor and the waves of paper splashed untidily with it. He kicked out angrily and started to prowl again. "I can take care of myself, Buffy." And he added with an incredibly bitter tone he normally managed to keep in check, "I thought we had at least established _that_."

Buffy took a predatory step nearer but Giles shot up the stairs to duck her. He closed the bathroom door quickly behind him. It didn't have a lock, because he'd never needed such a thing before, so he leant his back to it and studied the floor tiles, and the towel rail, and the slight damp patch over the shower, and most of all, he studied his breathing.

He heard her come up the stairs after him, very slowly. She creaked the floorboards near the bathroom and stopped, waiting for him. She said nothing but he knew she was there. Some minutes passed. The window was still open from clearing the steam from his morning shower. He could hear his annoying student neighbour with the drum kit, and only two minutes worth of rhythm, begin his morning practice session. He was sorely in need of practice but Giles was going to go round and make him eat that hi hat cymbal one of these days.

"I said no to his offer," he finally admitted. "There's no magick. There are no spells. I said no."

"And Dr Clarke?"

Relentlessness was good in a Slayer, he thought gloomily, and beat the back of his head very slowly on the door.

"He's on vacation. Scuba-diving somewhere I think," he answered.

After what seemed like an unseemly amount of silence, he heard her retreat downstairs and hung his head at the absurdity of his life hiding in bathrooms from a woman more than half his age. What was her spell? Maybe she was the one that was making him do things he didn't want to? She was part of his madness, bound up to the hole in his head and all the things he didn't understand. He closed the window and washed his face, trying to recognise himself in the mirror. Buffy had a power over him that wasn't about being the Slayer. A power that he thought in his darkest moments might just kill him.

Outside, the drumming had stopped to be replaced by tentative birdsong. As he dried himself, Giles realised with some shame, it was the same hand towel he'd put out for her last visit. He tossed it to the laundry and hung a fresh one. That the only preparation he'd remembered was to change the sheets made him feel slightly sleazy.

When he went down he found her sitting very upright on the couch, one leg hooked under a thigh, with her travel bag ominously on the seat next to her as if ready for departure. She had collected up the broken glass and mopped the scotch but left his papers where they had fallen. With an ache he realised he didn't want her to go but he didn't know how to stop her. He felt she would have left already had it not been for the derailment on the train line.

She was holding her elbows to her side very tightly, looking straight ahead if a little glassily. Giles walked past and knelt at the desk. He carefully separated the fallen example papers and essays into three piles – urgent, next week and overdue – and placed them neatly on his desk. He spotted, with some embarrassment, an old Chinese takeout carton sitting on his laptop and scooped it hurriedly into the kitchen trash. He thought about making tea but she preferred lemon and he hadn't remembered to buy any groceries.

"I'll call his office tomorrow and check the appointment," he offered flatly. He saw her eyes rise in a smile and he repeated "_tomorrow_" to be absolutely clear on his limits in the matter.

"Do you want me," he began hesitantly, "do you want me to drive you back to the train station now?"

"God no."

She uncurled her legs and rose quickly to him, touching him gently on the jaw as if unsure of her welcome. Giles didn't buck and her smile broke free of her eyes and reached her lips. She reached up and kissed him softly at first and then with a tenderness that hinted at their former urgency. And Giles knew he was lost in the power of her salvation. Because in his truly darkest moments, he knew that this was all that was keeping him alive.

He shook his head sadly. "I wish I knew what it is you do want."

Buffy trailed a fingernail across his lips. "One day you'll figure it out."


	8. Push and Pull

**Title: Push and Pull**

**Bookends Series**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

It was a little breezy to be walking that night in a London car park in just a strapless silk ball gown and Buffy was grateful for Ryan Appleby's red mess jacket over her shoulders. They walked casually past the clandestine cigarette smokers as if they were out for a romantic stroll, and not the two highly skilled demon hunters they really were, but the night air did little to tax their senses and Buffy was grateful when one of Ryan's men came running over to report a disturbance to his commanding officer.

They walked briskly to where a small gathering of his men were grimly tending to an elderly lady who had been victim to an attack. A wooden chair had been produced from somewhere and she sat somewhat dazed by the attention. Her expensive silver evening gown was scuffed and torn and a medical orderly was tending to a nasty wound on her shoulder that was dripping blood down to the ground.

"He tried to kiss me." Buffy heard the woman say. She spoke with an upper class British accent Buffy knew commanded respect. Clearly the woman had money and influence and Buffy thought Ryan might have his work cut out in hushing the matter up. Behind the woman, standing guard, Buffy recognised two of Ryan's elite men. They had cuts and bruises too and their clothes told a story of recent fighting. Captain Appleby took charge and asked them first for a report. They spoke of hearing the lady's scream, intervening, and taking a rather bolshie prisoner that put up quite a protest. They gestured to a parked jeep to their right. Buffy narrowed her eyes, expecting to see a truculent demon or vampire but instead she saw that the figure standing against the vehicle, with one wrist handcuffed to its wing mirror, was Giles. Giles? He too looked like he'd been in a fight and was tugging automatically at his handcuff like a chained animal.

She knew what Ryan was thinking but she set her jaw and pushed her way past the soldiers, marching up to Giles. He seemed to be staring off into the distance in intense thought so she put herself directly in his eye line to get his attention, then resting her fists on her hips, she addressed him.

"Giles?" she demanded.

He dropped his eyes to her and assessed her appearance. Surprisingly, he focused not on her pout but on the borrowed mess jacket. "Not sure about the red with the lilac on most people, but it looks good on you," he muttered.

"This dress is blue not lilac and what?" This was not, she felt, a good time for either of them to be distracted. "Never mind that, what the hell happened here?"

His answer came with unexpected belligerence. "They jumped me, Buffy. I just… I was merely defending myself," he snapped. She could recognise the signs of a post-fight adrenaline rush in him. It had been a long time since she'd seen him like that.

"Yes, but why did they jump you?" she asked and when he looked back at her in some puzzlement she hissed in clarification, "Why did the lady scream in the first place? What did you do?"

"What did I-? Oh the scream, yes." He pulled on the restraint again. He'd cut through the skin, reopening an old wound, the blood on his wrist made Buffy wince. "Well," he mustered sarcastically "I imagine she screamed because there was a vampire."

"A vampire?"

He looked so angry that she should doubt him that he added sarcastically, "Well what are the odds, eh?"

Behind her, the elderly lady in the silver dress had started to raise her voice. "No, no. You're not listening to me. I wish to make a statement. Who is in charge here?" It was a voice that was used to commanding attention in a two block radius.

Giles tugged on his restraint again and Buffy's hand wrapped itself quickly on his arm. "Don't do that please," she said gently. "It's bleeding again."

He snorted away her concern but she could see he was biting his cheek. "I really need to not be cuffed to this thing, Buffy," he muttered. She nodded her understanding, but unable to make promises, she returned to the small military party gathered to hear the attacked woman's side of things.

Ryan had knelt to the lady's side was leading the questions. "I'm the commanding officer here," he said soothingly. "And I assure you I am listening. Please tell me what happened from the beginning. No-one is trying to cover anything up." Buffy wondered if the last bit was for her benefit.

The woman began. "I came out for my wrap. It can get chilly you know? I'd left it in the car when we came, and Henry- that's my husband- Henry-"

"You came out to your car alone," Ryan cut in gently. "And there was somebody else here, ma'am?"

"Yes, I was alone and then he, I…" she took a breath and closed her eyes as if reliving the moment for sake of veracity. "There was someone behind me and I felt a hand on my throat and I turned and there was a loathsome tramp trying to kiss me. All bushy beard and bad breath, you know the type? Disgusting. I shouted for help, lost my footing a little I suppose, slipped down and that's when that kind gentleman," and she pointed to Giles very purposefully, "that's when he appeared and there was some sort of scuffle. I wasn't paying attention from the ground. I don't know what happened exactly then. Your men, I gather, arrived sometime after that." She said with some reproach before looking down at her wounded shoulder. "Good heavens, he bit me. He actually bit me! Am I going to need some sort of rabies shot?"

"I don't think so, ma'am, but we should get you to hospital just for a check-up" Ryan rose, pulled a face, and silently handed Buffy the cuff keys.

"I can help you find the 'tramp'," she offered.

"No, my men can manage, now that they've arrived," he added ruefully. "You just get your personal Jekyll and Hyde out of here." He shook his head in amusement. "Take him home Buffy, or calm him down or something, before I start to remember those useful contacts of mine." He grinned. "Didn't I say once a demon hunter, always a demon hunter?"

Buffy took the keys gratefully and unlocked the handcuff on the wing mirror. She scowled at the man she'd just released, angry that he should have acted so rashly.

"You took on a vampire by yourself, Giles? Are you completely insane? Which way did it go?"

"It didn't go anywhere," Giles replied somewhat huffily, "because funnily enough, as it turns out, it _is_ like riding a bicycle. I spotted it out here and I followed it for a bit and when it attacked, I staked it. So why don't you go back to your dancing soldier? I'm doing fine here all by myself."

"You did what?" Buffy saw red. "You knew I was here! You should have come and found me."

"I didn't need you. I don't need you," he said with great dignity.

Buffy snapped the open cuff on her own wrist and threw the keys over her shoulder. Giles' great dignity was replaced by equal parts uncertainty but Buffy didn't give a rats ass.

"Come with me, now!" she ordered and pulled the connection so hard that Giles gave a surprised yelp. She yanked again gave him a menacing look. "Walk or be dragged along face first, I really don't care which at this point." She set off at a brisk pace and Giles opted to sullenly keep up with her.

She moved determinedly, and headed back to the main house and then skirted round the kitchens and fire escapes till she found a quiet dark alcove with large yellow dumpsters full of trash. There was a thin amber light from a window above but otherwise only moonlight to see by. She pushed him violently against the far wall.

"You could have been killed."

"Well thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied angrily.

"Do you do this a lot? Going out and hunting? I really don't want to have to worry about you pulling this sort of shit."

"No I don't, but it's really none of your business if I did." He tried to push her away. "Isn't your boyfriend going to notice we're missing? Or is he OK with that sort of thing? Did you tell him you were dragging me off for a quickie?"

At that snarky remark, Buffy punched him full in the jaw. Giles went down untidily and Buffy, tethered at the wrist as she was, fell with him. They wrestled and disturbed a cat feeding in the trash. It shrieked off into the night with a great deal of offence. Giles slapped away Buffy's hands and managed to get his knees. He loomed over her bitterly, cutting off the slim light from above.

"Does he know about your visits? How I can barely get the door closed before you're ripping my clothes off? How you screw the old man's brains out, just to give him something to never forget?" His spite and anger was palpable as tried to grab her wrist. "So he'll be a good boy and won't do anything stupid till she comes round with the treats again."

Buffy slipped his grasp and punched him again. He hit the wall and she tried to roll on top of him.

"It's not like that, you jerk. Stop it. Stop saying these things."

"Why? It's what we do and this is where we belong isn't it? Getting down and dirty where no-one can see us? Like it was with you and Spike."

She had never known him capable of such venom. "It's not the same thing at all," she protested, pulling at his sleeves and managing only to rip the fabric.

Giles pushed her hard and tried to stand again. "I don't want a vampire's sloppy seconds," he snarled. "So be a dear, take a hint, and fuck off."

Buffy responded by barrelling into him with all her energy and taking the ground from under him. Her momentum slammed them hard into a dumpster causing it to tumble and shed its putrid contents around them. The smell of rotting vegetables, milk and meat was appalling but they rolled and wrestled for control, crashing through the plastic bags that split and vomited more garbage as they fought. Giles had bulk and size and an anger she'd never seen in him before, but Buffy had guile and slayer skills and a greater willingness to hurt him if she had to. She kneed him in the stomach, caught him off guard with blow to his shoulder and threw herself astride his chest, pinning his arms as he fought for breath and bucked against her dominance. She held up their cuffed wrists as a reminder.

"Oh no, Giles. I am not letting you go. You left me in Sunnydale. Said I had to be strong. Said you were leaving me for my own good. But that's not how it works."

Giles wriggled in a momentary panic. "So what, this is revenge is it?" His voice betrayed an edge of fear at his vulnerability. It occurred to Buffy that it was highly unlikely he'd been in such a situation since his father had been turned. His breathing was very raggedly. "Do you want to hurt me? Is this what this has all been about?"

"No, of course not," Buffy felt a little sick that he should ever think that. "It means I know what's the right thing to do." As Buffy took some deep breaths to calm herself, Giles still looked warily like she was about to literally tear his head off. "I know what it feels like to be you right now." Buffy spoke calmly and tentatively let her hand release its grip on his arm. "I know you hate yourself so much and you don't know why. I know you want to drive everyone away so they won't notice when you finally disappear yourself. Well newsflash, Rupert Giles, I'm not letting you do that to yourself."

"Fuck off, Buffy," he spat back. "I don't need your pity."

"Tough shit, Giles. I'm not going anywhere. You want to hit rock bottom? Fine, but I'm coming right down there with you."

"Why?" he challenged bitterly. "You weren't bloody there when it mattered."

His words cut her more than the swearing and the crude insults had done. Because there was something in the way he'd spoken them that set her senses to maximum. There had been an edge in his voice that stung a little more than the mere cattiness of his statement.

"I was picking up Dawn from the airport. She called and wanted to surprise you on your birthday," she stumbled in explanation.

Surprisingly he shrank back from her. "I know," he said. "So you've said. I know. I'm sorry." He didn't want to talk and Buffy knew there was more.

"But come on, say it. You've never said it. Say I should have been there that night." Her words were slow and thoughtful. She searched his eyes in the faint light of the alcove.

"Yes. You were late," he snapped petulantly.

"Is this British reserve and politeness?" she mocked. " 'cos come on Giles, you can do better than that."

He glared and rocked under her but she held him fast and waited.

"You were late, Buffy. You were fucking late." His anger rose and spilled out. "You are always late. The Late Buffy, it's no wonder you've died twice. Always fucking late and leaving me to pick up the pieces, leaving me to kill my own..."

A cold chill gripped Buffy's soul as she waited for him to finish the sentence that he was fighting against.

"You remember," she said quietly.

All the fight and bluster evaporated from Giles. She felt the tension in his body sag.

"Shit. Leave me alone."

"Tell me."

"No."

Buffy waited. She could wait all night and they both knew it.

"I tried so hard to wait for you and you were so fucking late. He was going to turn me and I ran out of time waiting for you. I pushed a stake into his frail ribcage and I heard the bones snap like twigs. Oh god. I killed him, Buffy. I actually had to kill him. _Like riding a bloody bicycle_," he choked.

Giles was nothing beneath her, his bulk and mass seemed to have vanished, like a small boy caught in a painful confession and shrinking into the earth. He'd wanted to crawl into the dumpster with the garbage rather than tell her and she'd ripped it out of him anyway. Buffy slipped off his chest and hugged his face and shoulders. He was sobbing hard and shaking, not wanting her to see his pain but also too tired of the struggle to push her away completely. Buffy hugged him tightly in her arms sharing an intimacy of emotions he'd tried to lock her out of for so long. As they rocked and cried together among the trash, Buffy knew she had gone beyond the physical, and finally made an emotional connection to Giles.


	9. Morning Glory

**Title: Morning Glory**

**Bookends Series by il-mio-capitano**

**This is one of a series of vignettes that should not be presumed to be published in chronological order**

**AU Buffy and Giles about five years after Chosen. Ignoring all comics.**

Giles woke from a surprisingly heavy sleep and reached for his glasses automatically. There was gentle female snoring to his side and he reflected that for a man that had lived alone most of his life, he always slept remarkably well with company in his bed. He opened his eyes and remembered that he wasn't actually in his own bed but Buffy's, and technically as they lay in a hotel suite, it wasn't even even her bed. He looked around the room with a yawn. The hotel drapes were the heavy set kind that gave no clues as to the relative position of the sun and he couldn't remember what he'd done with his watch. He shifted his position carefully and saw Buffy was curled over one arm and breathing with a slightest of whistles. As he had no idea as to the time of day, he decided not to disturb her, and slipped quietly from the duvet. She didn't stir at the motion of the mattress so Giles carefully unhooked one of the white towelling robes from the door and made off to investigate the rest of her suite. He found his clothes in a heap on the floor near the couch and retrieved his watch from the coffee table. It was just shy of seven in the morning.

He used the bathroom and washed his face and arms. The robe was designed for someone about a foot shorter than he was which didn't help his modesty. He pulled it across his chest as best he could and returned to the living area. He thought about re-dressing in his clothes from the previous night. He thought seriously about whether he should just leave and go home. Did she want him to stay? He'd missed his lift back, so staying with her had been the practical solution but perhaps he'd just be in the way today? He wondered how much attention he would draw in his filthy evening dress and what time the trains started up on a Saturday in London. As he checked his jacket pocket he found his mobile phone had one message. It was from Ethan.

_How did the posh works do go? Did you get drunk? Did you get laid? Enquiring minds want to know._

Giles smiled and keyed in a response.

_Very dull. Lot of academics and some military brass. No-one so much as spiked the punch, so not your sort of thing at all._

He raked the curtains across their heavy metallic pole to find Buffy's suite had a rather impressive view across the Thames. The sun was sparkling on the water and polishing the familiar landmarks for the benefit of the tourists. Two policemen were walking a lazy patrol; one had his thumbs in his stab vest whilst his partner was laughing at something he'd said. Giles' phone rang and he jumped to answer it quickly.

"You didn't come home last night, you dog." Ethan's rich voice warmed his ear.

"And how do you know that?"

Ethan affected a hurt voice. "I can't wait up? I can't worry?"

The bedroom door opened and Buffy appeared in tee-shirt and panties. She smiled at him and Giles gripped the phone rather guiltily.

"Actually old man," Ethan said, as Giles pushed the phone closer to his ear so Buffy couldn't make out who was calling. "I keep a locator spell open on you when you're not under the mystical protection of ancient academia. London is a dangerous place, as we both know. It's a city that can turn a boy's head." He paused for effect. "How's yours this morning?"

"Just a minute," Giles stammered and held the phone to his heart by way of muting it. Buffy eyed him in curiosity for a moment, but then shrugged and gestured to the shower. Giles nodded his understanding and waited for her to close the bathroom door.

"Now is not really a good time," he whispered to the phone.

Ethan's voice switched from his customary purr to concern. "Is everything OK? You're not in chokey or anything are you?"

Giles snorted. "One where they let you keep your phone?" he mocked.

He heard the water in the shower start up. Giles sat on the couch and looked at the view outside again. "No. I'm fine. I just stayed over in town for the night that's all."

Ethan was ecstatic. "You did get laid!"

"No actually, no." Giles adjusted the dressing gown but it still wasn't a good fit on a man his height. "It really wasn't that sort of night," he added truthfully.

There was a long pause before Ethan spoke again. "You would tell me if you weren't OK wouldn't you?"

"Probably."

"Would you tell me if you weren't alone?" he asked slyly.

"Probably not."

Ethan chuckled darkly "Be safe Rupert. Or if you can't be safe, be wild and glorious."

"Yeah. You too. Be seeing you."

Giles put the phone down and wondered if he was expected to join Buffy in the shower. He'd never been anywhere with her other than his own house, and even though it was a hotel, it was still her place. He didn't know the rules. He didn't know what was expected of him. A knock at the door saved him from having to make a fool of himself - if she had ordered breakfast to the room, then her plans did not involve anything physical that early in the day. He tightened the knot of his robe self-consciously and opened the door. It was not room service: to his alarm, it was the boyfriend.

"Captain Appleby," Giles managed to say, deeply conscious of the compromising position he was in. That he remembered the name of Buffy's young soldier would no consolation if this young soldier wanted to object to what the hell he was doing in Buffy's room wearing nothing but an ill-fitting bathrobe. There were limits to the social niceties after all.

"Dr Giles." The young man replied with a smile that seemed to border on a smirk. He was wearing civilian clothes and carrying a plastic sheet parcel that looked like it had its origins from a drycleaners. "Is Buffy in?"

"No," Giles realised the idiocy of his denial immediately. "Yes, but she's in the shower." He added, and realised that maybe that wasn't the best thing to say in his barely dressed circumstances. Like a bad farce, the door of the bathroom opened and Giles prayed to every deity he'd ever read about that Buffy wasn't naked. She was humming happily to herself and Giles stole a cautious glance: she had dressed in pink jeans and white tee-shirt. Proof perhaps there was a deity of some description after all.

"Hey, Ryan," she said, greeting her visitor in a remarkably casual tone. "Come to trade?"

"Yes please." He tossed the parcel he was carrying to Giles. "Buffy asked me to do the personal shopper thing," he added, grinning amiably. "Though actually I didn't have time so I raided Stores instead, but they should fit you."

Giles was perplexed.

"You can't wear a tux on a Saturday morning," Buffy added in explanation. "Especially not one in that state."

"Oh." She'd made plans at some point then. Plans to get him a change of clothes. Maybe plans to get him a train ticket home too? Giles looked from Appleby to Buffy and decided sadly he was surplus to requirements.

"Have you got my mess jacket?" Appleby asked.

"Sure." Buffy darted to the floor where she'd dropped the official dress uniform of an Officer of Her Majesty's elite forces, the night before. It was torn, grimy and smelt of turnips and off-milk. It was a garment that was never going to meet the Queen again. Appleby stared at it for a moment.

"Did you two not have time to set fire to it as well?" he deadpanned.

Giles waved his parcel in thanks and took the opportunity to escape to the bedroom and leave them to it. He shut the door to give them all some privacy. Buffy's world was so different to the one he'd known and her personal life was really none of his business. He dressed and found the clothes were a good fit if a little heavy on the khaki theme. The trousers were a comfortable length and though the officer rank shirt had loops on the shoulders for epaulettes, it was largely passable as civilian and of a good quality material. He buttoned the cuffs and looked in the mirror in some shock. In the seventies there had been a trend for customising army surplus as a protest against the military and the Cold War and he'd gleefully bought a West German army shirt from a market stall, and had ripped the sleeves and added various mod and CND badges. As a young man, he'd been ridiculously proud of that shirt and its gesture to society, and now he was older and wearing the same thing as part of the Establishment. He felt a little uneasy at that thought.

He tidied the bedroom for something to do: pulling back the bedding and drawing open the curtains. He found the suite came with a small balcony so he unlocked the catch and stepped out. The sun didn't reach that side of the building in the morning and the air was cold. Giles leaned on the small metal balcony guard where it promptly froze his hands. His father had thought his army shirt disrespectful but he'd practically slept in the thing just to spite him. In fact, when he'd dropped out of the Council and gone to London, he _had_ slept in it. Those were the days when he was truly wild and glorious; when the only consequences seemed to amount to his own death, not the death of other people.

Buffy came near the windows and cleared her throat tentatively.

"Giles?"

He had a memory of Ethan borrowing his shirt and he hadn't minded. They'd shared everything back then. He'd probably never gotten it back though…

"What are you doing out there?" she asked gently.

He gripped the balcony rail and stared out to the river. "I just thought I should give you two some privacy. Or do you want me to go for a walk?"

"No, Ryan's already gone. His team are shipping out to Germany this morning. There's 'something nasty in the Bavarian woodsheds' apparently."

He nodded but still took more of an interest in the Thames. There was an early jogger on the Southbank and a barge owner was opening up his doors for fresh air. They at least were sights that hadn't changed in thirty years.

"Giles?" Buffy had said his name almost as a snap and he turned to see her still wet hair fall over her shoulders. "It's getting cold in here," she softened. "Why don't you come inside and we can close the French doors?"

He did as he was bid. Buffy locked the catch firmly as he sat on the bed, then she inspected him in his borrowed persona.

"From roughed up James Bond to sexpot GI Joe," she said warmly. He just grunted in reply. Girls and uniforms…Appleby was a perfect match for her. She was looking at him now though in a different way. She looked concerned for some reason. "What's the matter?" she asked.

He recognised he was being churlish in ignoring her, so he made the effort.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry he had to go so soon. Should I offer to pay for the damage to his mess jacket?"

"Nah, I don't think so." She grinned in that slightly foxy way she had and added conspiratorially, "You should have seen what I did to his tank." Giles thought he probably didn't want to. She sat on the bed next to him. "I like the shirt. The color suits you."

"I can't go back," he said, his voice all of a rush. "I can't do this."

She reached for his hand and he didn't fight it. "What? Can't do what? Giles, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"This. All of this. You can dress me up as a soldier but it doesn't mean I can be one."

"What?" She looked at him like he was crazy. "No-one is suggesting anything like that…"

It _was_ a crazy thing to say and he knew it. He needed to explain it better.

"I don't mean a real soldier. I mean I can't be a Watcher again. Last night hasn't changed that, if anything it has confirmed it."

"Whoa. Where's this coming from? These are just clothes. Breathe, Giles."

"I am breathing and I'm telling you I can't be a Watcher again. I know I went back to it before, after Eyghon, but that was different. I didn't have anything else, and I think, deep down, I only did it to make my parents happy." He pulled at the top buttons on the shirt irrationally, he wanted to pop the stitching but it was too well made. "And I don't have that now."

"Alright, it's OK." Buffy reached for his hands to stop him. Her skin was soft despite the power it hid. She rubbed a thumb over his tense knuckle. "I understand. No going back. These are just clothes, they don't mean anything."

"But are you disappointed with me?" The words escaped before he could stop them. He didn't want to force the issue and yet he had.

"Of course not."

"It's what you want isn't it? Everyone back on the team. That's why you're here."

She put her head to one side. "That's not why I'm here. I don't want anything that is going to hurt you. I know I can't rewind the clock. You have a new life that's relatively safe, and that's what I want for you. No-one is enlisting you back into the fight here."

She looked so earnest he felt guilty. "Sorry. I'm being stupid aren't I?"

"Not really. I'm glad you're telling me this. I've had a lot of conversations without you. This is good. After breakfast, why don't we go shopping and get you something else to wear? Something you pick yourself, however gross," she teased.

"Aren't you going to Germany?" he asked.

"No, that's strictly a NATO nature ramble. It's nothing to do with me."

"But what about your soldier?"

"He's going but…oh I see. Giles," and again she looked so earnestly at him it hurt. "Ryan is a soldier, but he's not _my_ soldier."

He didn't understand. "But don't you have somewhere else to be? You are the Slayer."

"Not today. Today I'm all yours. Whatever you want to do."

He crumbled, but in a good way. "I'm sorry. These are just clothes, you're right and I am being stupid. You wouldn't want a Watcher that panics in the face of beige anyway." She beamed and he smiled shyly back.

"It's nice to hear you make jokes about it. I've missed that more than I can tell you."

He rolled up the sleeves untidily so it looked less formal.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded and, surprisingly, leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

"Let me finish my hair and then we'll get some breakfast. After that, we'll do anything you want to. Deal?"

Giles nodded at her bright energy and even grinned back, but privately he knew he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do next.


End file.
